


your love is a crime

by blackkat



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [86]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Katekyou Hitman Reborn!, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Crack, Crossover, Crushes, Excessive Swearing, First Meetings, Humor, M/M, Xanxus is a dumpster fire what else is new, mostly by accident, the varia save bucky, xanxus with a crush is the emotional equivalent of a fire in a dynamite factory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 11:57:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15557205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: “Oh, fuck,” Squalo says, thankfully at about a quarter of his normal volume, as he tumbles to lean against the wall beside Xanxus. “This is like with that shitty Bronco all fucking over again, don’t you fucking dare.”





	your love is a crime

**Author's Note:**

> Someone on my Tumblr prompted "here's a crackship for you: xanxus/steve rogers (by virtue of being icicles)". It started as _challenge accepted_ and accidentally ended up as _god damn it I ship this now_.

There's a man in Xanxus’s house.

Eyes narrowed, he watches the asshole advance like he’s moving through an enemy base, a shield in garish colors braced in front of him. Xanxus isn't about to judge; he’s seen some pretty ridiculous weapons in the hands of Flame users, and civilians had to pick up the trend sometime. He _is_ judging the man’s presence, though, and his lack of awareness of the fact that Xanxus is sitting ten feet away, watching him move through the dark.

Silently, in a movement Xanxus has practiced on Squalo until he’s able to get past even the idiot shark’s instincts, Xanxus draws one of his guns and levels it at the man just as he reaches the middle of the room.

“Want to tell me what the fuck you’re doing in my house?” he asks lazily.

Instantly, the man jerks around, shield coming up, body falling into a ready stance. Wearing a helmet, Xanxus thinks, narrowing his eyes, or maybe it’s a cowl. He’s also revising his opinion on the shield; he’d be able to get a shot off at the man’s legs before he could block it.

There's a pause as the man stares at him, wide eyes narrowing, and he lifts his chin. Says, in some of the most broken Italian Xanxus has heard since the Sawada brat started learning, “I do not want harm.”

Xanxus rolls his eyes, flicks another glance at the colors on his shield and uniform, and switches to English. “I said, what the _fuck_ are you doing in my house, asshole?” And just to make it more appealing to give him a direct answer, he cocks his pistol, letting the sound echo in the dark room.

There's no flicker of alarm on the man’s face, just calculation. He glances at the gun, at Xanxus’s face like he’s weighing if he’ll really shoot, and then says in English, “Your house? This is a Hydra base.”

Xanxus snorts. “The piece of shit Nazi assholes?” he asks, curling his lip. “Smoked them out yesterday. This is Vongola property now.”

The man hesitates, a flicker of an expression Xanxus can't read crossing his face. “I'm pretty sure that’s not how that works,” he says, but it’s touched with definite humor. The shield dips, and he offers, “It’s not my intention to intrude, but I'm looking for information on someone. I'm Captain America.”

Xanxus almost drops his gun, jerking upright out of his slouch. “ _Bullshit_ ,” he bites out, because he had those comics as a kid. Fuck, he had those _action figures_ , though it the Ninth ever brings that up again Xanxus is going to make him eat them. And—the shield is probably right, though Xanxus can't make out the details in the low light. The uniform is definitely way off what it’s supposed to be, though, and Xanxus is so fucking offended he’s about to see red. “Captain America crashed in the Arctic seventy years ago. No one’s even found his _plane_.”

There's another definite hesitation, and the shield lowers all the way. The man tips his chin up, and—that’s definitely the square-jawed stance Xanxus has seen in old photographs. “I was frozen,” he says, “in the ice. But how do _you_ know that?”

Because the shitty old man once bribed Xanxus into staying in school by digging up all the information he could find on Captain America and his adventures. The tips of Xanxus’s ears heat, and he holds the flush back by force of will and sheer indignation. “Fucking prove it,” he challenges, coming to his feet without letting his gun waver. “Tell me your name, bitch.”

“Is that how you ask for everything?” the man asks mildly, but he reaches up, gripping the edge of the cowl and pulling it back. And—that’s the same goddamn face Xanxus saw in his file. _Fuck_. “I'm Steve Rogers.”

After a second of wavering, Xanxus holsters his gun, lets his coat fall back over the other one. “What the hell is Captain America doing in Civitavecchia?” he demands, but can't resist stepping down from the battered chair to come closer, circling Rogers warily. Rogers doesn’t turn to follow his steps, just stands in place, though Xanxus can see his grip is still tight on his shield.

“I told you already,” he says mildly. “This is a Hydra base, and I was intending to raid it for information. It looks like you’ve already done a pretty good job of picking it over.”

After the assholes here nabbed Belphegor, Xanxus was hardly about to let them _keep_ the stupid prince. He’s the only one allowed to break his toys, and besides, Fran was fucking _insufferable_ without Bel to knock him around a bit. “They pissed me off,” he says, and comes to a stop facing Rogers. Blond, blue-eyed, but there's a trace of green in his eyes as well, an amused curve to his mouth that puts Xanxus more in mind of Mukuro than any of the angels he’s seen Rogers compared to in books. “Frozen, huh? Fucking _sucks_. Boring as shit.”

Those eyes widen, and Rogers takes an aborted step towards him. “You—” he starts, then pauses. “They told me most people don’t survive cryogenic freezing,” he says carefully.

“ _They’re_ idiots,” Xanxus says flatly. He turns on his heel, stalking out of the room, and says, “Well? If you want the info, keep the hell up. I'm not fucking bringing it to you.”

There's a sound of faint surprise, and a moment later Rogers catches up with him, falling into step as they head down the sweeping staircase. “You’ll share what you found?” he asks. “Just like that? Mighty decent of a guy who lurks in the dark with guns.”

“Fuck off,” Xanxus says flatly. “It’s not for you. If that shitty shark doesn’t stop fawning over that asshole’s mechanical arm I'm going to shoot him. He needs something to do.”

Rogers very nearly misses a step. “ _Mechanical arm_?” he says in shock, just as the door to what was once the main ballroom flies open.

“Oh! There you are, Boss!” Lussuria says cheerfully, in the middle of pulling on his coat. “I was going to go out and get us some dinner. Is there anything in particular you’d like?” Then he catches sight of Rogers and pauses. “ _Oh_ ,” he says, almost gleefully. “Oh _, Boss_!”

That stupid fucking heat is back in Xanxus’s ears, and he doesn’t hesitate to jerk his pistol free and level it at Lussuria's sunglasses. “Fucking get lost,” he snarls.

Lussuria just laughs, bright and fluttery. “Going, Boss,” he says, beaming, and then tosses Rogers a salute and a wink. “Hi, handsome! Nice to meet you!”

“You as well.” Rogers sounds amused again, and as Lussuria flounces past he raises a brow at Xanxus.

Ignoring him, Xanxus boots the door open and stalks in, turning down the ripped-open entrance to one of the secret passages. It leads down at a sharp angle, but Rogers manages to keep his feet, and Xanxus calls up a whirl of Flames to light the way. He ignores the feel of eyes on him, Rogers’s considering silence, but it’s far harder to ignore the quiet, “How long were you frozen?” that breaks the hush.

Anyone else Xanxus would shoot for asking. It’s bad enough seeing the pity on the faces of everyone who knows when the subject is even vaguely touched upon. But—seventy years, Xanxus thinks, and that could have been him, couldn’t it? If Squalo wasn’t such a stubborn little bitch, if the Varia hadn’t backed him—

“Too long,” he says shortly.

Rogers makes a sound of pained sympathy. Pauses, and then says wryly, “The popsicle jokes are the _worst_.”

Startled, Xanxus barks out a laugh. Sawada’s Rain and Sun Guardians are the only ones stupid enough to make those cracks, but Xanxus can admit there’s little worse. “Yeah,” he agrees. “And the fucking _references_.” Because even now people will pull them out and leave Xanxus in the dark, and like hell he’s going to waste time researching _memes_.

Rogers grins, swift and warm in the flickering light of the Flames of Wrath. Then there's a staticky crackle, and he blinks in surprise, bringing one hand up to touch his earpiece. “Widow? I'm fine. Some locals took care of Hydra. They said we could have access to the information.” He pauses, then flicks a glance at Xanxus. “She says there's a boy with green hair and a frog hat wandering around the lawn. Is he with you?”

Xanxus rolls his eyes. “Un-fucking-fortunately. Tell her to keep her distance. He’s not as shitty as he looks.” Since he’d rather Fran not pick a fight with the Black Widow, he raises his voice, and snaps, “Bel, get the fuck up and go get our fucking illusionist. I can't fucking afford another one if he gets himself wasted.”

From the pool of light at the end of the hall, there's a loud groan, a rattle. “The prince is _tired_ ,” Bel complains, even as he slinks out of the room, shoving his tiara straight. “That’s a job for peasants—”

Xanxus very deliberately cocks his pistol.

“—but the prince needs to make Fran buy him more bandages anyway,” Bel finishes without pause, and bolts past Xanxus.

“Incoming, Widow,” Rogers reports, amused. “He’s a friendly, and he’ll get the kid.”

“He’d fucking better,” Xanxus mutters, and stalks into the room Bel just left. “Shitty shark, are you done with that bullshit yet?”

“Why are you asking _me_?” Squalo demands loudly. “Viper’s the one with the computer skills, damn it! VOIII, DON’T FUCKING SHOOT ME, YOU SHITTY BOSS—”

“Tch.” Xanxus holsters his gun again, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back against the wall. Rogers is standing motionless in the doorway, and Xanxus shoots him an irritated look. “Are you coming in or—?”

“Bucky?” Rogers breathes.

Squalo’s rescued tagalong jerks around at the sound of his voice, eyes widening. “Stevie?” he asks, then pauses, going tense like he’s expecting a reaction that doesn’t come.

“You're fine,” Viper says without looking away from the keyboard they’re picking at. “I rooted out the mind control, and I’ll be charging the boss for my efforts, since it was very stressful.” They sniff, and Xanxus rolls his eyes.

“The shrimp’s been breathing down my goddamn neck,” he says. “If I can't give Sawada a good reason we took out a chunk of Civitavecchia, he says he’s going to lock us in the mansion with the expense reports.”

“I'm working on it,” Viper tells him, though it’s noticeably more polite than their words to the tagalong. “Another hour, Boss.”

“I—you found Bucky?” Rogers interrupts, looking from the tagalong to Xanxus and back again with an expression that doesn’t know if it’s bewildered or relieved. “ _How_?”

Bucky clears his throat, edging his metal arm away from Squalo’s sharp-eyed interest as the swordsman looms beside him. “I made a mistake,” he says. “Hydra grabbed me again, an’ I guess they got one of these guys’ men, too. When they raided the place, they broke me out.”

“That idiot prince,” Squalo says huffily. “Boss, Sawada called and said he’s coming out here, since you won't pick up your damn phone.”

Xanxus swallows a groan. The last fucking thing he wants to deal with is Tsunayoshi Sawada and his big earnest eyes and his new mantle as Vongola Decimo and all of his fucking rabid Guardians who never fucking let him out of their sight. Really, he’d rather face off against the Millefiore again. “Tell him to fuck off,” he orders, and Squalo puffs up.

“VOIII, HE’S NOT GOING TO FUCKING LISTEN TO ME, SO TELL HIM YOURSELF, SHITTY BOSS—”

Xanxus is short on liquor bottles at the moment, but he snags an abandoned laptop off the nearest table and chucks it at Squalo’s head. Squalo ducks with an offended cry, and Levi lunges to catch the computer as it falls. As the swordsman rises, spluttering, Xanxus deliberately looks away, and tells Rogers, “If he’s yours, fucking take him. I've got enough useless shitheads taking up space.”

Rogers tears his eyes away from Bucky, looks over at Xanxus, and the emotion in his face is enough to give Xanxus _hives_. “ _Thank you_ ,” he says, fierce and full of wonder, and grips Xanxus’s shoulder for half a moment before he’s heading for Bucky, grabbing him up in a tight hug.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Squalo says, thankfully at about a quarter of his normal volume, as he tumbles to lean against the wall beside Xanxus. “This is like with that shitty Bronco all fucking over again, don’t you fucking _dare_.”

“Shut the hell up!” Xanxus snarls, but Squalo bats his gun down before it can even hit his temple and gives him a _look_.

Xanxus ignores it, ignores the heat in the tips of his ears. Tries to ignore the heat in his shoulder, like an imprint of Rogers’s hand, as he glares at the rest of the Varia, and is…not quite successful. _Fuck_.

“Sawada’s going to take one damned look at you and _know_ ,” Squalo warns him.

“Fuck off,” Xanxus says, but hunches in on himself a little, knowing it’s all too true. Damn it. He fucking _hates_ the shrimp.

Rogers and Bucky are staring into each other’s eyes, smiling. It’s disgusting, except for how Rogers glances away, looks over at Xanxus and _grins_.

Xanxus wants to _shoot him in the fucking face_. God damn it all to fucking hell.


End file.
